


Failure

by Varmint



Series: Kankuro's Lonely Corner [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Contemplation, Dysfunctional Family, Relationship Problems, Self Confidence Issues, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Varmint/pseuds/Varmint
Summary: Kankuro was tired. Just... So... Extremely... Tired. ~/~ Song-fic. Breaking Benjamin's 'Failure'. Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and alcohol.





	Failure

Quite frankly, Kankuro was _tired_.

Wait a minute... That word wasn't strong enough to help define the level of weariness that had forced itself into his bones. Was there any word that could accurately describe that much exhaustion, though? To him, it seemed as if none of the words to usually define some type of level of tiredness could ever fully encompass what he was truly feeling.

He was tired of _everything_.

Of being lost.

Of letting go.

Of wasting breath.

Of having nothing left.

He was just. So. _Tired._

Sometimes, he allowed himself to entertain the thought of just...

Ending everything.

It'd be easy, too.

A sharp kunai to the wrist.

An 'accident' with any of his puppets' different kinds of poisons.

Hell, he could just walk off into the desert and never return.

No one would truly care in the end, after all.

Gaara was too busy being the leader, father, brother, cousin, _everything_ figure to their little village. The younger male had responsibilities that always kept him from truly getting together with Kankuro one-on-one. He was always too busy for Kankuro. And Kankuro understood that, even with how much he wanted to, he'd never truly be able to create a bond with his brother.

The time for that had passed by them. And there was no turning back.

With Temari, on the other hand, he'd actually been able to form some kind of bond. One that meant Kankuro was always a punching bag whenever she felt like it, one that ended with more insults and threats shared than hugs or love, and one that always left Kankuro feeling tired and drained, but a bond nonetheless.

Temari wasn't the greatest sister in the world. She was mean and selfish. But she'd also kick anyone that dared mess with her siblings' ass. And in a very fucked up manner, she showed Kankuro her love by ignoring him and only truly using him whenever she wanted dishes to be washed or food to be made.

She couldn't cook to save her life, after all. Gaara was usually never at home before dinner time. So, by default, Kankuro was left to cook the meals for him and his family.

His two siblings would most probably be more inconvenienced by his death than truly hurt by it. This fact became more and more true the more Kankuro allowed himself to think about it.

And while this thought might cause sadness in others, Kankuro was just... _Accustomed_ to pain. He was used to dealing with sadness and hurt. So thinking about how little he truly affected his only surviving family members barely caused a stir in him anymore.

He was most gifted, after all, at being ungifted.

What good was puppeteering when you couldn't even defend yourself from close ranged attacks? Even though he was great at catching enemies off guard, he had yet to develop a completely solid defense against close ranged attacks.

He had been such a failure he'd killed his brother.

If it hadn't been for Granny Chiyo interfering, there would be no Gaara anymore.

But Kankuro would _still_ be alive... Because he had even failed at dying from the poisoning.

Why had he stopped himself from ending it all again? It's not like anyone would miss him. His siblings would move on without any difficulty. He had no friends. No father or mother anymore.

... A tired and long suffered sigh escaped the male's lips as Gaara and Temari flashed across his mind.

He loved his brother and sister.

That's why.

And because, deep down, he was selfishly unselfish.

He allowed himself to be walked over by his family because he _wanted_ to be _wanted_. If he was around to do the chores, then his siblings might not notice how truly worthless he was. They might not notice the _complete failure_ he was.

Fuck... He was even a failure at _feeling_.

He was tired of everything. Yet he _wanted_ to keep going.

The fuck was wrong with him?

He allowed Temari to walk over him and insult him all the time because it made her feel good. And if she was feeling good, then he could feel good about himself. When she punched or kicked him for having done something wrong, he knew it was deserved and she was just putting him in his place... Didn't mean he didn't growl back for the sake of keeping appearances up, but... Yeah. He didn't mind the abuse. As long as she was happy, then he was happy.

Gaara wasn't terrifying anymore. Although Kankuro would still flinch away from him whenever his brother became impassioned or stepped too close. The years of fearing for his own life had yet to be forgotten, apparently. And it always hurt Kankuro when he flinched because he would see the pain in Gaara's overly telling eyes. _He_ caused that pain in his brother. He was a failure as a brother.

So, why not make a list of things he had failed it?

At being a brother. He'd screwed that up majorly, both with Temari and with Gaara.

At any type of fighting that wasn't at a distance.

At dying at the right time.

At living the rest of the time.

At _living_.

He was a fully fledged failure.

He was even bad at choosing the right moment to rid this world of his sorry existence.

He was a coward, after all. No matter how much he played at being the courageous and foolhardy fighter. He was terrified of attempting to kill himself... And _failing_.

If he were to try to kill himself and fail... Then his brother and sister would know of everything that plagued him. They'd see him as the coward he truly was. As the _failure_ he was. They'd know how horribly _cracked_ and _broken_ he was. And they'd treat him like the nutcase he really was. Not as the headstrong person he had made them believe he was.

Looking up at the darkening sky, Kankuro breathed out.

If he didn't get home in the next few minutes, Temari would arrive and find herself with no warm meal prepared. And that would send her on a rant about how completely useless Kankuro was- not that he would ever truly disagree with her about it- and she might even break a few plates if her day had been bad enough.

... He was so tired of everything.

But he was terrified of trying to finally end it all and failing.

He could live with being tired. He could live with the perpetual ache in his heart. He could live with tears threatening to spill just about every day and crying himself to sleep every night. He could live with Gaara's detachment and Temari's anger.

But he _couldn't_ live with something else. If he were to finally try and fail, everything would change. He'd no longer be seen the same way. He'd be seen as weak, _fragile_. And... Even though he was, that didn't sit well with him. They would begin to treat him differently, as if he couldn't take what they gave him. And Kankuro couldn't live with that. Not after a lifetime spent sharpening his edges to be able to deal with _any_ and _everything._

He was lost now. His body and mind were always detached from one another. While his body continued mechanically with the motions of the day, his mind always wandered into thoughts of just how utterly _crappy_ his life was.

He didn't have much left in his life, anyway. Just his brother and sister. And... Even then...

With a heavy exhale, the teenager stood up from the bench behind the bar and finished the remains of his bottle. It hadn't been anything hard, he couldn't get home drunk if he didn't want Temari to immediately interrogate him. But it had enough of a kick to calm his racing heart and make his body feel just a tad bit lighter.

Turning his head up to the sky, a pained smirk found its way onto his painted lips. Then he scoffed, shook his head, and thrust his hands into his pockets.

The walk back to his home was as quiet as his pain.


End file.
